Sorry
by AgentVick
Summary: What if things were the other way around...what if Vaughn was the one who broke down? (AN: 6 is up! No, really, it is, i actually updated ;)) Please...R/R)
1. Say the Word

Where the hell am I?  
  
I'm wet, cold and tied to a worn out chair. I adjust my eyes to the dim light and find that the room is unkempt and damp. The majority of the furniture, if you can call it that, doesn't look as if it has been touched in years. My attempt to get a glance at the remainder of the room behind me is foiled by the startling realization that I am aching all over. Which poses another question.  
  
How the hell did I get here?  
  
I'm wet, cold, and tied to a worn out chair. And I have no idea why. I try to ignore the state of pain my entire body is in at the moment and shut my eyes in search of answers. Suddenly my memory of the previous night comes rushing back. Water. Lots of water. A closed door. And Sydney's eyes. The pain and regret that flashed across her face are burned into my mind.  
  
For some reason, the aching only gets worse.  
  
I cringe at the sound of slow footsteps approaching and am not at all surprised to find "The man" standing in the doorway. I am, however a bit shocked to see steam rising from a bowl of soup he is holding. His eyes wander over the heinous state I am currently in and he takes a seat.  
  
"Khasinau."  
  
"Agent Vaughn." He nods at me, and for some reason I sense a feeling of regret in his words. "You should eat something."  
  
"I'm not hungry."  
  
He sighs and again gives me a once over. He places the soup on a crate next to me and moves to exit.  
  
"Wait, you can't just leave me here. I have questions."  
  
"I know. And 'the man' will be in shortly to answer them for you."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
He stops and shakes his head, but does not turn to respond. He takes about ten steps and stops. I hear voices in a room further down the hallway and again, slow steps approach me. But these steps are different, softer, almost as if.  
  
"Hello Michael."  
  
"Oh my God."  
  
I stare idly at the woman before me, and find myself at a loss of words. All the pain I was feeling before is replaced by hatred. We were wrong. We were so wrong. And it was so obvious. Irina Derevko, the devil herself, was apparently 'the man' as well. She grins widely at me.  
  
"Don't feel too bad Mr. Vaughn, if Jack and Sydney haven't figured it out by now, you most certainly can't expect yourself to have." She moves forward, looking down at me with an amused smile plastered across her face." How have you been, Michael? I haven't seen you sense you were, what, 8 years old I believe. You have grown up into quite an impressive young man."  
  
It takes all I have not to lash out at her for using my father's death against me. I should have expected her to do so, but it is still killing me inside.  
  
"What is it you would like me to call you? Irina, 'the man', or perhaps you still go by Laura."  
  
"So sharp, Mr. Vaughn. Irina will be fine."  
  
"Alright then, Irina, what the hell do you want with me? I know nothing of importance to you."  
  
"It's not what you know, but who you are. My daughter seems to be quite smitten with you and I intend to find out why that is."  
  
"You do not have the right to refer to Sydney as your daughter. We both know that."  
  
I finally get a frown out of her, and while that is a good thing for my esteem, it may not be so good for my health.  
  
"I am her mother weather you like it or not, Agent Vaughn."  
  
"A mother would not have left her child. Sydney was six when you ran yourself off that bridge. Did you even stop to think of what that would do to her?"  
  
"Michael, I do not advise you to."  
  
Shaking my head, I ignore her 'advice. "You were damn lucky though, weren't you Irina. Sydney turned out amazing without your help."  
  
Her playful voice turns sharp and stern, and she begins to glare icily at me.  
  
"I'd like to think she took after her mother. You have to admit that the resemblance is striking."  
  
I choke out the best laugh I am able. I am pretty sure I was drugged at some point during my captivity because there is no other explanation for my outspoken manner.  
  
"Look, I hate to 'burst your bubble' or anything, but that couldn't be further from the truth. Sydney looks nothing like you. If you knew her at all, you would see that. She is loyal, honest and has a heart, a few things you would know nothing about."  
  
Just then, something in her eyes changed, something snapped. She looks at me quizzically.  
  
"I think you may have just sealed your fate, Agent Vaughn. I was going to keep you alive, for my daughters sake, but your existence has turned out to be to much of an imposition." She gets up from her seat in front of me and takes two steps back, reaching into her pocket for what I can only assume to be a gun. "I assume that as a child you wondered the details of your fathers death. You knew, of course, that your daddy died a hero. But you wanted to know how. Protocol, a word I am sure you are more than familiar with, keeps the CIA from releasing those details. Admit it, Michael, you are curious aren't you? "  
  
"Don't."  
  
"Don't what, Vaughn? That's what she calls you is it not? Always Vaughn, never Michael."  
  
"Please."  
  
"Begging, are we? You know, I never would have pinned you as one to stoop as low as begging. Your father never did."  
  
I want to yell, I want to scream, but I can't. Slowly, tears begin to fall down my face. This, of course, makes her smile again, and she begins to pace. "I have no doubt that you have realized by now that I am going to kill you. However, I have also decided to give you a choice. You see, when I was a younger agent, I was enamored with the process of death. I studied every form of murder with fascination; I spent my nights trying to discover the average mans breaking point, the exact moment where everything goes blank." She stops pacing and is standing not more than a foot away, glaring upon me with a victorious look on her face. "Here is your choice, Vaughn. I no longer enjoy my methods of torture. I now prefer a simple shot to the heart. But I am willing to grant you the option you have dreamed of for almost thirty years. Say the word, and you will leave this world the same as your father. You will finally know exactly what dear old dad saw in his last moments. All you have to do is say the word."  
  
My breath catches in my throat as she makes me the offer. As a boy, of course I wanted to die as my father did, a hero But I never would have imagined that. Suddenly I find myself unwillingly shaking my head in response.  
  
"No? Very well then. This may sound cliché, but I cannot resist. Any final words Michael?"  
  
"Tell her. tell her I loved her."  
  
I see her triumphant smile, and shut my eyes, looking for the one image, or should I say face, I want to part with.  
  
And then I hear it.  
  
Unlike she promised, its not just one. Instead, a bombardment of shots ring through my ears. Suddenly, I realize that for some reason, I feel nothing. No pain, no anguish, and no bright light. I open my eyes, only to find that Irina Derevko is no longer the woman standing before me. She is lying on the ground ridden with bullet holes. The woman who has replaced her takes one last shot and tosses the gun with relative ease next the body, and turns to look into my eyes.  
  
Sydney. 


	2. A Good Friend

--Hey guys, sorry I didn't do this for the first chapter, but I am a little new at writing all of this : ) This next Chapter is a very short one.but I will post another soon. I haven't gotten many reviews (by not many I mean only 1.) so please tell me what you think!  
  
*I do not own Alias or any of its characters  
"Mike, I don't know where the HELL you are but you better get your sorry ass back here. Devlin is pissed and I have called you at LEAST six times on this cell, so don't say I didn't warn you. And if you're with her. I swear Mike you better not be because if you are.Donovan! Donovan down! I hate your dog! You owe me big time buddy!"  
  
I am such a good friend. Here I am babysitting his stupid mutt while he is off throwing his entire career away from some girl. Of course, that is a bit of an understatement considering that that girl just so happens to be one of the most dangerous, not to mention beautiful, women in the world, but I don't give a damn. He should know better than this. Becoming a CIA agent has been his whole life, everything his does revolves around how he can live up to his father, while wrapping himself in the flag all at the same time. He has gone through hell to get where he is today. But when she calls, he comes running. Frankly it makes me sick.  
  
"Donovan, I have no idea how you eat this stuff. Is your noise stuffed up or something because this seriously smells."  
  
I could not tell you why Mike got a dog. I guess at the time it may have been a good idea, him still being a desk jockey and all, but he is never home anymore. And its not like this is some awesome dog or anything, he doesn't even sit when you want him to. He just lays around on the couch all- day and then yelps at you when he is hungry. And me, being the great friend and all, I'm stuck with him all the time. You would think he would warm up to me after a while, but noooo. The only person he ever acknowledges is Mike.  
  
And for some reason, the yelping starts again.  
  
"DONOVAN! Will you please shut your face! I just fed you, you cannot honestly be."  
  
Suddenly I hear the door crash open and then shut again. Mike throws, and I mean that literally, all of his stuff on the floor in his living room. Completely disregarding the fact that I or his pesky mutt are in the room, he stomps off to his bedroom, slamming the door in the process.  
  
What the hell did she do this time?  
  
"Mike? Hey Mike, I don't know if you noticed I was here or not but I came over to feed your dog, who is at the moment clawing ferociously at your door."  
  
I hear the loud noise of drawers being opened and closed, but no answer.  
  
"Um, Mike? Whatcha doing in there? Cause it doesn't sound so great."  
  
Still no answer.  
  
"Michael? Hey, uh, do you wanna talk about it?"  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Was it Sydney? You know how I feel about that and all, but if you need to talk to someone I."  
  
The door slams open and in a matter of seconds I find myself pinned against the wall.  
  
"Weiss, did you not understand that I DO NOT want to talk about it when you didn't get an answer? I appreciate the concern and all but I don't need your help."  
  
"Hey, buddy, I just."  
  
"You just NOTHING Weiss. Thanks for taking care of Donovan, you can leave whenever you like."  
  
"Are you sure that you don't."  
  
"Does it LOOK like I'm sure?" I stare at him, and notice the anguish contorted across his face. "I didn't think so."  
  
And with that he was gone again. I have known Mike for nearly ten years, but I can honestly say I have never seen him like this. And I honestly don't know what to do. Again I hear noise in the bedroom, and a bang against the door. My guess is that a chair is now securely placed beneath his doorknob. I realize that this may be bigger than I thought.  
  
"Mike, look I, I know you said you don't want to talk, but are you gonna be ok?"  
  
Nothing.  
  
"I don't know if I should leave you hear like this Mike."  
  
Still nothing.  
  
And I know I have to call her. 


	3. Should Have Known

This has been the worst day of my life. And considering what I do for a living, that means a lot. Whoever said that it was the little things that count wasn't kidding. First, there was a power outage in my neighborhood overnight so of course, I woke up late to my clock blinking 12:00 at me. And then, seeing as I was busy the past weekend, I didn't really have the time to get any laundry done. So when I show up at work half an hour late wearing an over sized suit I borrowed from Francie, I am not at all surprised at the stares I receive from everyone in the briefing room. Hell, even Marshall is staring at me.  
  
I was, however, quite amused during Sloane's rambling over a 'shift in power' that occurred over the weekend. One glance at dad stifles my inner grin and gets me just a bit ticked off as well. And once that's over, he yanks out the scrambler pen.  
  
"Sydney you cannot let your guard down again like that."  
  
"Excuse me, dad, but it is not my fault that the power went off last night! And you have got to admit that its pretty funny that. . ."  
  
"Sydney I did not call you in here to chit-chat about the irony of our situation. I need to ask you about your knowledge of Agent Vaughn's whereabouts."  
  
My smile is gone.  
  
"I don't understand what you're talking about dad."  
  
"Vaughn has not contacted the agency since he returned from Taipei. I requested for him to come in today so I could smooth things out but he failed to show and is not answering his phone calls."  
  
"He Iwhat/I? Dad, are you sure he returned from Taipei as planned? Did you ask Weiss? They're friends, he might. . ."  
  
"I confirmed his arrival earlier this morning and Agent Weiss has taken a day of leave. I need you to tell me if you know anything Sydney."  
  
This is not happening. This cannot happen.  
  
"No dad, I, I have no idea. He. . . "  
  
And our minute is up. He closes his pen and exits the room, not before giving me his 'don't do anything stupid' look. But it's a little too late for that.  
  
"Excuse me, Arvin? May I have a minute?"  
  
"Of course, Sydney, come in."  
  
"I want to apologize again for being late today, things just don't seem to be going my way lately."  
  
Look up, smile, shake head. Ring hands nervously for effect.  
  
"That's all right, Sydney, we all have those sometimes don't we."  
  
"I was wondering if, well if I could have a few hours off today. I know that's a lot to ask for but things have been getting a little crazy lately and I. . ."  
  
"Sure Sydney, go ahead. Take the whole day off if you need it. That's the least I can do for my best agent."  
  
All right, that was a little unexpected. He seems nervous, almost apologetic, and there is a look of remorse in his eyes that I don't usually see.  
  
"Thank you Arvin. I promise to be on time tomorrow."  
  
Smile, share mutual laugh, shake hands, and exit.  
  
It's become clockwork to me.  
  
"Sydney, where are you going?"  
  
"Hi, dad, uh, Sloane gave me the rest of the day off."  
  
He looks like he is about to explode at me, and then it clicks. He can't tell me not to because why shouldn't dear old dad want his little girl to have a day off? So there.  
  
"Oh. OK then. Uh, be sure to contact me."  
  
And there's an extra emphasis on 'contact me', of course. I smile at all of my fellow coworkers, get into the elevator and finally reach the parking lot. I stop for a moment and lean against the cold concrete walls, taking a deep breath. I should have known something was wrong, I should have asked him. But I didn't. And now I'm paying for it.  
  
*Flashback*  
  
i"Tell her.tell her I loved her."  
  
No. There is no way in hell she is taking him from me. He is going to tell me that himself. I feel my fingers pull the trigger over and over again, until there's no more. And she's finally gone.  
  
"Vaughn, oh God Vaughn are you okay?"  
  
He is just staring at the ground, cringing at my words. I finally untie his ropes and he gets up slowly, his face stricken with pain. After a moment he answers my question, his eyes never leaving Irina.  
  
"You just killed your mother."  
  
His voice is hushed, as if he isn't even talking to me. Searching for his eyes I try asking again.  
  
"I know. Are you okay Vaughn?"  
  
"I'm fine. We have to get out of here. Where's your father."  
  
Why is he being so calm? He almost died for Christ's sakes.  
  
"I, I uh."  
  
"Sydney can you please focus."  
  
Shocked at his words I notice his face is expressionless. This scares me. Normally you can read his feelings from his eyes, or sense it in his voice, but both are blank and emotionless  
  
"He's waiting outside in the van with Will."  
  
"Your going to have to lead, I have no idea how to get out of here. Sydney, come on."  
  
Sydney. He never calls me Sydney. It's always Syd. Something is wrong. I look at him for a moment, wondering what it was she did to him. How it was she turned this man cold. But he does not return my gaze. So I lead us out. i/  
  
*End Flashback*  
  
I am so upset with myself I could cry. But I won't. I have to find him but I don't know how. I don't know where he lives, where he goes to eat, or where he goes when he needs to get away. The only thing I can think of is the train station, but as I head towards my car I notice my cell buzzing from inside my purse. Frantically I search my bag and finally find it.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Joey's Pizza?"  
  
"I, umm, wrong number."  
  
As much as I want to think that was Vaughn's voice, I know it wasn't. But I do know that he is the only reason Weiss would call me. I run to my car and nearly yank the door off trying to get in. And I don't think I have ever driven so fast in my life. 


	4. Naive

----I want to thank everyone for the great reviews! Keep them coming!!  
  
----I am going to let you all now in advance that I realize that some of the circumference talk in this chapter may not be accurate. . .just bare with me.  
  
----I have the fifth installment to this story written, but I am going to wait for a substantial amount of reviews before I post it. So if you like what you read, let me know! Of course, I will post it reviews or not, but it will be nice to know if I should continue down the course I'm on.  
  
----I do not own Alias or any of its characters  
  
-  
  
So this is it. This is the warehouse. This is their warehouse. It's odd, I feel out of place here, as if I am interrupting a private conversation. Everything here is so dark and lonely, yet for some reason it seems comfortable.  
  
My endless pacing and pointless thoughts end when I hear tires screeching to a stop and a door slamming. The ominous sound of her heels clicking on the concrete fills the air. Here we go.  
  
"Weiss! I am so glad you called I. . ."  
  
"What the HELL did you do to him?"  
  
Ok, so plan on not getting to emotional isn't really panning out to well. She stops in her tracks and glares at me with confusion.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"You heard what I said Bristow. I want to know what it was you did to make Mike shut himself in his room."  
  
"He did WHAT?"  
  
"He came home this morning threw his stuff all over the place and locked himself in his room. And when I tried to talk to him he proceeded to slam me against the wall and scream obscenities. And I know that you are the only person who could ever draw a reaction like that out of him and I want to know what you did."  
  
"Well you obviously don't know him as well as you thought. I didn't do anything to him Weiss!"  
  
"Right."  
  
Okay, not the best idea to throw sarcasm at a woman who knocks out trained killers for a living. She gets dangerously close to me and gives me an icy stare.  
  
"Look, I know you don't agree with the 'emotional attachment' between Vaughn and I, but if you think that I would ever do anything to hurt him, you better think again. And for future reference, I really don't appreciate being accused of something on pure assumption."  
  
All right, it is now glaringly obvious that I am a naïve idiot.  
  
"Sorry."  
  
She backs away while shaking her head and takes a seat on the table.  
  
"Dad told me this morning that he hadn't showed up to work this morning or answered his calls. I was so worried."  
  
Her voice is so small when she says the last sentence that I barely hear her. I am beginning to realize that I may have underestimated their friendship. If you can call it that.  
  
"Do you have any idea what might have made him do this."  
  
She sighs audibly and looks up at me."  
  
"Do you know any details on what happened in Taipei?"  
  
"Well considering the fact that it wasn't exactly a CIA sanctioned event, I'd have to say no."  
  
"The primary reason why I was going was to make the trade with my friend Will. He was kidnapped by Sark on the false pretenses that. . . "  
  
"I heard."  
  
"Dad was willing to trade him for the manuscript page, but once we figured out what was on it we altered the plan a bit. The page contained instructions on use of the Circumference. We knew that the CIA wouldn't take us stealing government property lightly, but if we were to destroy the circumference in the process it would give the CIA a step ahead and grant us some leniency. It should have been a simple mission, Vaughn an I entered the underground storage facility through a rave. . ."  
  
"Woah, wait a sec. Vaughn went undercover to a IraveI? You have got to be kidding me."  
  
She smiles for a moment.  
  
"Yeah, he did." Her smile quickly fades. "Earlier in the year I had acquired a model of the circumference, and it was no larger than a shoe. But Weiss, we underestimated it. The device, it was IhugeI. It was enormous; it would not have fit into this warehouse. I knew that if I destroyed it I would have to swim out. I was prepared to do that, but Vaughn lost contact with me and came to help. I met him in the hallway just as the water came rushing through. I was. . . I don't know. . . maybe two steps ahead of him when we came to the end of the hallway. I barely slid through the door as it closed, but Vaughn. . ."  
  
"He didn't make it. Saving you is going to get him killed one day."  
  
Her eyes break hold of the chair and turn to glance at me for a moment. She snaps at me.  
  
"I wouldn't let that happen." I shake my head, silently urging her to continue. "After trying to beat the door down with an extinguisher for a minute I noticed he was gone and the water had begun to recede. I ran all over that damn place looking for another doorway where he might have left. Finally I came to a corridor that was different from the others. It was older and there was a door at the end that lead to a stairway. I told dad what I could over the com piece, but he was barely audible and I lost contact with him after a few seconds. Once I got to the top of the stairs I opened the door to find a run down apartment hallway. I followed to the end and heard muffled voices, one I recognized as Vaughn's, and the other. . ."  
  
She stopped and took a deep breath.  
  
"Sydney, who had Vaughn?"  
  
"Weiss, 'the man' was a woman. Irina Derevko was the man."  
  
For a minute or two I just stare at her. It registers in my mind that her life sucks. And that's the understatement of the year.  
  
"Your ImotherI?  
  
"I said Irina Derevko, not Laura Bristow. My mother died almost thirty years ago."  
  
Right.  
  
"Wait, you said was."  
  
"I walked in to find Vaughn tied to a chair with his eyes shut and she had a gun pointed at his heart. I couldn't let her do that, I couldn't loose someone else, I couldn't let him die at my expense. And she deserved to die for what she has done."  
  
"You IkilledI her? You killed your. . .you killed Derevko?"  
  
You would think that someone would be remorseful over taking the life of the woman who gave you yours, but her expression was serious, she had no regrets. And somehow I understood.  
  
"It took him a moment to register that the gunshots were not coming from the same gun that had been aimed at him. When I untied him, he seemed different, I don't know. . .emotionless. I should have known, I should have tried to do something. . ."  
  
"You can't blame this on yourself Sydney."  
  
She gets up from her seat and looks me in the eye again.  
  
"I know that you're the type of guy that frowns upon disobeying protocol, but I need your help. He has always been there for me, I have to do the same for him."  
  
I decide not to reiterate the obvious because I am sure that 'it could get you both killed' won't change her mind. Sighing I reach into my pocket to get my keys.  
  
"You can tail me to his house. Park a considerable amount away from my car and."  
  
"Weiss, did you forget that I'm a double agent?"  
  
I give her a small laugh and head towards my car.  
  
"Right. I guess I'll see you soon then."  
  
I sit in my car for a second a take another deep breath. If she can't help him, then I don't know what will.  
  
-  
  
----So apparently I just don't know how to make things italicized or bold. So if anyone wants to help me figure it out please feel free 


	5. Returning the Favor

***All right, here it is. The much anticipated fifth installment. As promised, it is S/V packed and subsequently super-shippy, not to mention much longer than the other chapters. I realized after writing this chapter that once I get started on these two, I just cannot stop.  
  
***Also, I am sorry about Weiss's minimal, boring role in this chapter, I just cannot seem to fully capture his character. A wise man once said 'all I am is your conduit to Vaughn', and that basically sums up his part.  
  
***Note to reviewer concerned with the authenticity of Vaughn's crying in 'Say the Word': I was not trying to imply that he was 'crying', per-say, but simply attempting to express the pain he was going through. One cannot stop tears from forming when your life is in the hands of your fathers murderer and certain things have been left unsaid to everyone's favorite spy, no? I thought I would justify that because I too at first questioned including that aspect, but in the end finally decided to go with it.  
  
***I HATE the title of this story. You will understand the meaning behind it upon finishing this particular chapter, but I wanted to use something a little more appropriate. Sorry just doesn't seem to work. Let me know if you have any ideas . . .  
  
***And of course, this would not be an Alias story without reference to the mystery that is 47. So here ya go. Enjoy!  
  
***I do not own Alias or any of its characters.  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
I spot Weiss's car and park ten to the left. He doesn't turn to look at me, but sticks a key into a mail box and before closing it lets a piece of paper hang out. He shuts it and begins up the stairs. The clock reads 12:46.  
  
So here I am. Vaughn's apartment complex. It's odd, being here, where he is just Michael Vaughn, not Agent Michael Vaughn.  
  
Now that I think about it, Francie and I actually considered renting here. Francie liked the view of the room we have now better. If we had moved here, I could see Vaughn outside of work every day. It's not like they could make either of us move or anything. Damn Francie.  
  
This is not how I imagined visiting Vaughn's apartment. There had been more smiles and nervous laughter than frowns and worried curses.  
  
Why the hell is he doing this to me? I wonder if he ever stopped to think, 'if I don't show up to work today, what is Sydney going to do'? Does he honestly think he's the only one here with sleepless nights?  
  
The clock finally flicks to12: 47.  
  
Checking for tails one last time; I grab my purse and open the door. I walk past the mailboxes and read 203J off the box Weiss marked. I want to run up the stairs and burst through the door, but the neighbors might think it odd that a woman they had never seen was bounding into Vaughn's apartment. After what seems like hours I reach 203J. Taking a deep breath I open the door.  
  
"Hey! How have you been?"  
  
I smile giddily at Weiss and then turn to shut the door. Before he can reply to my sugarcoated greeting I throw down my purse.  
  
"Where's his room."  
  
"Second door to the left."  
  
I want to take the time and absorb everything in here, but instead I leap down the hallway and start banging on his door.  
  
-  
  
*Honey you are a rock, upon which I stand. And I come here to talk, I hope you understand. *  
  
-  
  
"Vaughn open the door!"  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Vaughn! I don't know what the hell is wrong with you but you are going to open that door and get your ass out here."  
  
Nothing. My voice is stern and I feel like a parent scolding their child.  
  
"You and I both know I can pick this lock in under 15 seconds so I suggest you open the door before I have to do it myself."  
  
I hear a muffled cough from Weiss's seat on a barstool in the kitchen in an attempt to get my attention.  
  
"There's a chair against the doorknob."  
  
You have got to be kidding me.  
  
"You wedged a chair against the door? What are you, ten?"  
  
He is still not answering me. I really did not think it would take this long to get him out of there.  
  
"All right then, that's fine. Ill just shoot the door down. I wonder what your neighbors would think of that. Gunshots in the middle of the day can raise a few eyebrows."  
  
Of course I'm kidding, it's all just to get a rise out of him. And it is not working as I planned. I soften my voice because yelling isn't doing it.  
  
"Vaughn? Vaughn, I need you to open the door for me. You don't have to talk I just. . . I want to see you."  
  
I hear movement inside the room. But its just on the bed, the door is still wedged shut. Something is seriously wrong, and I don't know what to do.  
  
"Um . . .Weiss?"  
  
He looks up at me from the kitchen and nods his head.  
  
"You'll call me if . . ."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Good luck Sydney."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
He gives me one last glance and the leaves.  
  
"Vaughn? Did you hear that? Weiss left, it's just me now. Please, just open the door? Or at least say something."  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Vaughn? Please?"  
  
Still nothing. I notice that my voice has gotten a little uneven. I laugh a little at myself.  
  
"Do you hear what this is doing to me Vaughn? I can travel around the world and effortlessly steal from the rich and famous, but I have to remind myself to breathe straight right now."  
  
Another shift.  
  
"Alright, be a baby about it. You are acting so immature!" I notice a slight change in the pitch of my voice again but I can't help it. "You act so brave, so strong, but you don't even have the courage to let me in your room! And the fact that you won't talk to me isn't helping either. I can't help you unless you tell me what's wrong!"  
  
-  
  
*Green eyes, yeah the spark light shines upon you How could anybody deny you? *  
  
-  
  
I am appalled to find tears forming in my eyes. I did not intend on crying. I am not the one who is in trouble this time. My hands immediately fly up to my eyes and rub the tears away.  
  
"Vaughn, please? Do you hear this? Do you hear me! I'm crying damnit!" Now I find that nearly all of my sentences end with a sniffle. I slowly sink to the ground leaning against his door. "You can't do this to me; you can't push me away! You're.you're me rock and I'm trying to return the favor but you won't even let me!"  
  
Another shift. But no words. Suddenly it dawns on me why I might not be the person he wants to talk to right now. And my eyes grow painfully dry.  
  
"Oh God Vaughn, I'm so sorry. I know I look like her, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Will you please just . . ."  
  
Theres another shift, but this one comes from the door. The chair.  
  
I immediately jump to my feet and find the doorknob is loose. I open it slowly and gaze upon something I thought I would never see. His room is a light green with a darker trim. All of his furniture is a deep oak and there is a large window on the far wall. It's a fairly large room, and finally my eyes find him sitting with his back to the headboard staring at his feet. His sheets are all white, and the downy comforter is dented where he sits. I notice it's the first time I've seen him outside of work attire (which ranges from a suit, janitor jumpers, and the lone leather jacket). He is wearing black sweats and an over-used king's T-shirt, no socks on his feet. I would smile if it weren't for the lost look on his face.  
  
I notice for the first time that I have taken off my shoes and removed my suit jacket. I still feel insanely over dressed. But I guess now is not the time to be concerned with attire.  
  
I walk nonchalantly over to the bed and sit mirroring his position, staring at my feet as well. And I am shocked to finally hear his voice.  
  
"You don't look like her."  
  
"You don't think so?"  
  
"Not even a little."  
  
He acknowledges my presence for the first time and flashes me a weak smile. It's a smile none the less.  
  
"You know, this isn't how I imagined you visiting my apartment for the first time."  
  
"Me neither. But I didn't really have a choice, did i."  
  
He frowns and turns his gaze to an imaginary spot on the comforter.  
  
"I didn't mean to worry you."  
  
"Well you did."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"It's a little to late for that now isn't it."  
  
"It's really not a big deal Sydney."  
  
Ok that was uncalled for. I move my head so I am staring right at him, silently willing him to face me.  
  
"Not a big deal? It was big enough to leave me out there at your door for half an hour near tears!"  
  
"Sydney, I didn't mean to. . ."  
  
"No Vaughn! You scared me to death! When dad told me you hadn't contacted him I thought you could have been dead! Do you understand that? I had no idea what was wrong with you! Do you honestly think you're the only one who worries here? There are times I can't sleep at night too. Do you have any idea how hard it is to know your very existence puts someone you love in danger?"  
  
Oh good Lord. I did not just say that. I can feel my expression drop and I suddenly jerk my head in the other direction.  
  
"Well you didn't make someone you love kill their mother!"  
  
Not only did he ignore and reciprocate my huge slip, but he snapped at me. I cannot believe *he* just snapped at *me*.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"You heard what I said Sydney. Because I am a coward you put about seven bullet holes in your mother."  
  
The venom in his voice is insane. I cannot suppress my laughter.  
  
"What? What the *hell* is so funny?"  
  
"You are ridiculous Vaughn. Do you hear yourself?"  
  
"I am serious Syd."  
  
"Well I haven't a clue why. Laura Bristow died in a car accident thirty years ago. The woman I killed in Taipei was Irina Derevko. They are two very different people."  
  
-  
  
*I came here with a load and it feels so much lighter now that I met you Honey you should know I could never go on without you. *  
  
-  
  
He shakes his head and returns his gaze to the imaginary spot.  
  
"You know what I . . ."  
  
"I don't care what you meant. That woman was nothing to me."  
  
For the first time, he looks me straight in the eye. I speak up when he decides not to reply.  
  
"Plus, I don't give a damn if it was the Pope himself, there was a gun pointed at your heart. I would never let you die Vaughn, never. When I saw you on the other side of that glass, my heart stopped." I look away from him and my voice gets softer. "I tried so hard to break the glass. I knew it wouldn't but I tried just the same. I couldn't leave, I couldn't let you go, not like that."  
  
"It's not your fault. I have been avoiding my treadmill for quite some time now.""  
  
Somehow by the way his T-shirt falls on his chest, I find that hard to believe. But I laugh anyway.  
  
"So . . .are you gonna tell me what she said or are we going to sit here all day."  
  
"Well actually . . ."  
  
"Vaughn . . ."  
  
He laughs a bit at himself, but gets quiet after a moment. He scratches at the invisible spot and hesitates before answering my request.  
  
"She was so . . . sarcastic at first, everything she said was so smug. Every word was so planned, as if she knew it would get to me. But then I said something about her not being your mother, and she snapped. Her eyes, they went cold. She mentioned my father." He stops for a second takes a deep breath and continues. "She told me she would, and I quote, 'grant me the option of dying like my father did'. And I couldn't do it, I just froze."  
  
"I should have let you shoot her a few times."  
  
He gives me a small laugh but continues with a stern voice and I notice the unmistakable passion his eyes  
  
" She was so adamant about being your mother, Sydney. It made me sick. You are not that woman's daughter. It almost got me killed but I couldn't let her get away with believing that."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"You know I'd do anything for you."  
  
I just smile, because I do know.  
  
-  
  
*Honey you are the sea upon which I float, I came here to talk I think you should know. *  
  
-  
  
"The feelings mutual."  
  
We sit there for a moment, but this time it's my feet he's staring at. I thank God that I painted my toes on a whim the night before we left for Taipei and miraculously they remain a peachy red. His attention moves to my rumpled attire and then he makes it to my eyes, surveying my face for a moment. I sit in silence waiting for him to say something, anything. Because to tell the truth I don't know what to say. This handling thing, it's his job and he is much better at it then I am.  
  
"She knew about us. It was weird, Syd, she knew you called me Vaughn, she knew we were more than your average handler and asset." He pauses and his beautiful green eyes capture mine. "She knew I was in love with you."  
  
"I . . .umm . . .she, uh . . .you what?"  
  
He chuckles and for some reason I don't find it quite as funny. Before I get the chance to comprehend what he said and reply, he speaks up again.  
  
"What, did you think I was kidding earlier?"  
  
Good question. I sit for a moment with a confused look on my face, which brings an amused smile to his lips.  
  
"You said 'someone I love' Vaughn. Loving someone and being IN love with someone are two different things."  
  
He looks at me questioningly.  
  
"How so?"  
  
"Well, I love Will, but I am most certainly not IN love with him."  
  
I catch the repressed sigh that escapes his mouth and restrain myself from laughing.  
  
"So, Sydney, who are you IN love with?"  
  
He is flirting with me. Michael Vaughn is flirting with me. And to think this whole thing started with me threatening to shoot down his door.  
  
-  
  
*Green eyes, you're the one I wanted to find Anyone who tried to deny you must be out of their mind'  
  
-  
  
"Well, there is this guy."  
  
"Do I know him?"  
  
"Yeah, you do." A playful smile pulls at my lips. I realize that I never smile nearly as much as I do when I am with him. Funny, really, seeing as we aren't even supposed to like each other at all. "He's a really great guy, always there when I need him. And that is quite a bit."  
  
He chuckles again. And I think I just may be getting addicted to that chuckle.  
  
"Is that so."  
  
"Oh yeah. He's good looking too, tall and handsome, a great smile and those eyes . . .they're this amazing green."  
  
I notice he is blushing profusely and staring at his hands. I let out my own chuckle.  
  
"And I think he likes me too . . ."  
  
"He does." His answer is quick and catches me off guard. "A lot. How could he not fall head over heels for a gorgeous girl like you?"  
  
All right, my turn to blush. I get compliments daily on my appearance, but that's 'call girl Sydney' and 'spoiled rotten snob Sydney'. It's not often that 'regular Sydney' gets called gorgeous. I quickly regain my composure.  
  
"But there's this thing called protocol. It's a pain in the ass and seems to have gotten in the way of anything that could . . ."  
  
He interrupts.  
  
"Will."  
  
"Excuse me, anything that will happen between us. And as much as I want to say to hell with protocol . . ."  
  
"He won't. Because he knows that if anything happens he's a goner. Just once could never be just once for them. And that would get her killed which would strictly violate his duties as handler."  
  
He stops and looks at me, letting his smile grow even wider.  
  
"But when it's all over, when the devil is put to his grave, he promises to 'handle' her properly."  
  
That's it. I can't stand it anymore and burst out laughing. I am laughing so hard I am almost crying. I haven't laughed that hard in a long time. He just watches me, not laughing at what he said but at my laughter.  
  
He chokes out a "What?"  
  
"It's just that, I've never met flirty Vaughn before."  
  
"Oh well, all the stuffing you in my trunk, breaking into the Vatican and almost dying doesn't really allow much time for flirting."  
  
"Then I guess we'll have to make time."  
  
He gives me a playful smile, which I gladly return. I so wasn't kidding about those eyes. They are so green; I've never seen anything like it. And when he looks at me, not just out of the corner of his eye in the park somewhere or at a meeting in the task force, I mean really looks at me, something changes. The green becomes full of concern, friendship, what I now know is love and a spark of hope. And suddenly it dawns on me. I never returned his brave sentiment. I mean, I danced around it, but I never really said the words.  
  
"So, Sydney, are you sure your okay about . . ."  
  
"I'm in love with you."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Well, I know it was implied, but I never said the words. I am in love with you Michael."  
  
His face is plastered with shock, and for a moment I am confused as to why. Did he really not know that I felt the same way?  
  
"What?"  
  
"I think that's the second time today you called me Michael."  
  
I let out a laugh and nod my head.  
  
"Actually, I think it's the second time *ever*."  
  
"Does it bother you that I call you Vaughn?"  
  
"Not at all, I don't think anyone has ever made my last name sound so, I don't know, personal. Plus, I have a feeling that the only time you'll use Michael is when your really upset with me, or your trying to tell me something extremely important and personal, or when . . ."  
  
He stops and suddenly turns red. I realize where the conversation was going and I smile.  
  
"I think your right about that." He lets out a sigh of relief that I am not offended by the implications, and his smile returns. "So, you were saying? Before I so rudely interrupted you."  
  
"You can rudely interrupt me whenever you like." He smiles one last time before turning serious again. " I just want to make sure you're really ok about . . ." He stops momentarily searching for the right words. "About her. I know you are going to completely shoot this down like it is nothing, but even though neither of us would like to admit it, technically, or biologically I should say, she was your mother. And you killed her."  
  
-  
  
*Cause I came here with a load, And it feels so much lighter now that I met you*  
  
-  
  
I stop for a moment looking at him, trying to formulate the right words to convince him that I am in fact serious about my feelings on the subject. On a whim I scoot closer and put my arm around his waist, laying my head on his shoulder.  
  
"I understand that it may seem odd to everyone that I am indifferent towards the situation, that I just treated her death as if she was another guard who got in my way. But Vaughn, I loved my mother. I idolized her for almost thirty years. And I want to remember her as the gentle schoolteacher, good wife and mother I thought she was. I do not want to remember her as the woman who killed nearly twenty CIA agents, mainly your father. I have to separate the two for my own sanity. Otherwise I would probably spend my time concentrating on the what-if's, which I am not fond of doing."  
  
I finish my long-winded speech and look up to find him gazing down upon me, those amazing green eyes full of love, and dare I say passion. With that thought, I just cannot stand it any longer. I can resist in a government office full of colleagues, I can resist in our dark, secluded warehouse and I can resist at a rave where he is tastefully sporting a lovely leather jacket. But not today, not here in his room.  
  
-  
  
*Honey you are a rock, upon which I stand. *  
  
-  
  
Slowly, I lean in and close me eyes, fully aware that I just may be making the biggest mistake of my life.  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
***I know, I know, the suspense is killing you. I was going to end it here, I had planned on only having 5 chapters, but I realized that I like this plot too much for that. So I am giving myself an extra day or two to try and come up with some clever continuation. If not, 6 will be the last chapter.  
  
***PLEASE REVIEW! I know when I was first reading this stuff I never bothered to give a review, but now that I finally gave in and started writing my own fic I am thrilled to receive reviews praising my work. I mean really, it gets me grinning from ear to ear. So go ahead, make my day. Let me know what you think!  
  
***If anyone was wondering, the song is "Green Eyes' by Coldplay for all of you who haven't already read a fanfic using the song . . . 


	6. Traffic

-Yes, I know I have not updated this in forever. And yes, this chapter turned out to be extremely short. But it's that time of the year again, and I have spent the past week crammed in my room studying for these damn finals, and not to mention the post finale fic that I started (and should be working on right now . . .) No, that's not a very good excuse. But it will have to do : )  
  
-In case anyone is wondering, I am half way through the next chapter in The End, but I felt bad and needed to update this. I also might have a angst/fluff short story out with this one, but I'm not sure yet. So re-read this in the interim and I will have the next chapter up before you know it.  
  
-  
  
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-  
  
You know that dream where you somehow find yourself standing in front of the entire student body naked? Well this, what just happened, is about a thousand times worse. No, I'm not kidding. In fact, it would be enjoyable compared to this.  
  
I have been siting here with my eyes closed *obviously* expecting a kiss for the longest five seconds of my life. And that's about all it takes to embarrass the hell out of me.  
  
Not only that, but he has actually gotten off the bed. Could this possibly get *any* worse? I should probably open my eyes but that would mean looking at him, which is something I absolutely cannot do at the moment. Ok, a drawer's opening. There's some shuffling going on. And now the drawers shut.  
  
The bed slightly shifts as he returns; though I can tell that he is now kneeling in front of me. Still my eyes are closed, sealed shut at the thought of accepting the fact that I just made a fool of myself in front of *him*.  
  
"Sydney?"  
  
Eyes still shut.  
  
"Syd, open your eyes."  
  
And just what makes him think that I would want to do that? I shake my head in response, attempting to deject the reality of the situation for a moment longer.  
  
Suddenly, I feel his hand on my cheek and he turns my face to what I can assume is his.  
  
"*Sydney*."  
  
His voice is pleading with me in a near whisper, and I damn him for having so much power over me. If this had been some Russian interrogator, my eyes would be glued shut. But with Vaughn, think again. Slowly my eyes open and I refocus to find him kneeling in front of me, like I suspected, with a box in his hand. No, not *that* box. It is a little larger and a bit worn out.  
  
He stares at me for a minute and I return the stare questioningly. Finally, a reassuring you-just-saved-my-life-gee-we're-in-France? smile appears on his face. I do my best to return the sentiment and reach my hand out to touch the box.  
  
"What's in the box."  
  
It's a statement, not a question.  
  
He continues to smile as he looks down at it and then at me. Slowly he releases the clasp and opens the lid, revealing an old, classic looking watch. I look at it for a moment, completely confused.  
  
The laugh I get from him lets me know that he sees that.  
  
"This watch used belonged to my dad. When he gave it to me he said that I could set my heart by the watch. Sydney, it stopped on October 1st, the day we met."  
  
"That's a good thing, right?"  
  
He looks at me incredulously and lets out a small laugh, not realizing that I am dead serious. That could mean anything, he could be saying that because of me he no longer has a love life. On the other hand, he could be saying what I have wanted to hear my entire life.  
  
"Yes, Syd, it's a good thing. I wasn't kidding earlier when I said I wasn't going to kiss you. And not because I don't want to, Lord knows I do more than anything I have ever wanted in my life. It's because once would never be enough, I wouldn't be able to look at you again without trying to plan the next time I could kiss you. And that would distract me from 'handling' you, which could get you killed. And if anything ever happened to you because of me, I just couldn't live with that. I guess I just want you to know that no matter what happens, no matter how long we have to wait . . . you do have my heart, you always will."  
  
Of course upon hearing this tears begin to spring into my eyes. He does that to me a lot, doesn't he? I know that it took a lot for him to say this to me, but it is the most . . . romantic (even though that's cheesy) thing anyone has ever said. I don't know how he does it, but he always find the right words.  
  
"You are amazing, do you know that?"  
  
A crimson red immediately rushes to his cheeks and she smiles at his humble nature.  
  
"No I'm not."  
  
"Yes, Vaughn, you are. You're the most amazing person I have ever met. No one, *no one* has ever had the ability to make me feel this . . .this happy."  
  
To someone from the outside, the statement would seem sweet and sentimental, but Vaughn knew what she was admitting to him. No one included Danny. And he knew how hard it must have been for her to say that. Just as he opened his mouth to reply, he saw her head whip down to her skirt and watched as snatched the beeper off trying to figure out exactly who had interrupted them.  
  
"I thought you threw that thing into the Pacific."  
  
After flashing him a short reassuring smile, she glances back down at the beeper and frowns.  
  
"Who is it?"  
  
"My dad, he probably just wants to know how thinks worked out. Everyone had been looking for you. I'm going to go get my cell phone."  
  
Retreating from the bed, she doesn't catch the regretful look that passes across his face due to the reminder at what she was doing here to start with. Thinking back, he realizes what an ass he had been. It really wasn't that big of a deal, and if things had been the other way around . . .he doesn't know what he would have done if she had reacted to anything in the same manner. The word sorry just didn't seem like enough.  
  
"Bristow."  
  
"Hey, dad, you called?"  
  
"I . . .Sloane wanted me to ask you to come back in to the office."  
  
"What are you talking about? He just gave me the rest of the day off?"  
  
"Something important came up. And Sydney?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Take the service streets, there's heavy traffic on the highway."  
  
Without warning, tears begin to form in her eyes and she stares straight ahead. This was *not * supposed to happen. Her bad day had just gotten better, in fact wonderful, and no *this *. It was a minute before she could catch her breath.  
  
"OK, dad, I will."  
  
"Goodbye, Sydney."  
  
"Bye, love you."  
  
"You too."  
  
The line goes dead, and for a moment she just stares at the phone wondering if this is all real. Wondering if the hell that is her life she got worse than she had ever imagined. She hasn't looked back at him and he gets anxious as to what has caused her to suddenly turn off.  
  
"Sydney? Syd, what is it?"  
  
Taking a deep breath, she turns her face to look directly at him.  
  
"My dad, he . . .he's been made."  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-Dun dun dun . . .Yeah, I did steal half of this chapter from the real story. But I think it's turning out pretty well, and I have finally figured out where I want it to go. Which means more updates. Wahoo! Ok, now go and review and I might have a few chapters up by the end of the week. Let me reiterate the *might * in that sentence . . . : ) 


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